


Gaze into the Abyss

by WT Maxwell (WThomas_M)



Series: Academy [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Andorians, Day of the Dove, Energy beings suck, Episode: s03e07 Day of the Dove, Gen, Merchant Marine, Pah wraiths, Prophets, Redjac, Starfleet, and Klingons, and violent humans, oh my!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WThomas_M/pseuds/WT%20Maxwell
Summary: An emerging threat that feeds on the fears of others draws the attention of expelled Academy cadet Nic Locarno and an unique starship with an experimental crew and its well-known captain, Worf.





	1. The Dutchman

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the crew of Starfleet Academy (1995, Interplay)
> 
> Concept by Scott Bennie and Rusty Buchert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distress call from an out of commission Starfleet vessel draws in a science ship, that rapidly assesses more is going on than what it appears to be.

“ _There is a hidden grace found in the silence of stars._ ”

Dr. Nev Byana ’s opening description of deep space; that single line inspired a whole generation of New Delhi students to reach for the stars. But unlike most of Captain Saikia’s former classmates—who relished the idea of adventures on other worlds (tales of the  _ Enterprise _ being a perennial favorite) —Saikia preferred those silent and grace-filled depths. The beauty that could be found within a subspace strand, a temporal anomaly, a strange sensor contact; his love for discovery was why the  _ U.S.S. Argent _ quickly forged a reputation as one of the finest science vessels in the fleet.

It was also why he was here, in his command chair, puzzling at the approximately 22,000 metric tons of metal actively crumpling in front of him.

He took a sip of his drink, a teasan from Tellar with highlights reminiscent of lavender, chicory and tobacco.  “Astrometrics to confirm.”

“They’ve only confirmed it, what, three times? Can’t you believe your own eyes?” That gruff voice belonged to Gaav-lar Throx, one of the few Tellarites to graduate the Vulcan Science Academy. Before he posted to the _Argent_ , he’d cycled through a number of other commands. Each, more stridently than the last, warned Captain Saikia of Gaav’s tendency to treat everyone as disrespectfully as possible. It took Saikia the better part of an afternoon to understand these arguments had a purpose: to move you out of your comfort zone and challenge you. It took more than a year to get used to it, though.

Saikia tapped on the data fed to his command chair.  “I have your readings in front of me. Your point?”

“I keep forgetting how limited your pathetic human senses are.”

Saikia noted Gaav ’s sarcasm. It meant he had a conclusion in mind. “So what are these poor pitiful senses missing?”

Gaav waddled over to Saikia ’s command chair. Commonly, it would require a pair of ensigns to pry him away from his station; he only left it when he was upset. “It’s what you’re not seeing.” Gaav looked to his captain as if expecting an interruption. Saikia kept silent. “You should be seeing energy.” Gaav stepped forward, pointing at the viewscreen. “You have a warp core implosion, even a tiny one. You get hard rads, leakage across the EM spectrum.” Gaav snorted, gave a small toothy smile. “If you’re really lucky, you might get a subspace rupture and put out tetryon emissions.” He frowned again, calling up the options. “Singularity event? At minimum, Hawking radiation.” Gaav had been unconsciously moving forward. He nervously clicked a rough, thick fingernail on the nav console. “Temporal anomaly, specifically a time dilation forwards or backwards. Tachyons.” Gav frowned. “This? Nothing.”

“And this is an Alameda class ship?”

Gaav shrugged.  “Maybe. Possibly. We got a partial ping off the navigational array before it went all...” He made a crushing motion with his hands. “Same distress signal we first picked up, but otherwise.” He shrugged.

“Those were decommissioned in 2200, yes?”

“Earlier. 2180s, at best. But you know how you humans are. You use them until they fall apart.”

“Assessment.”

“We were lucky to pick up the beacon at all. No way to fully identify the ship. No way to pull out the logs, or learn about its make or model. I’d say ‘trap’ except we’re far from any contested space or treaty zones.”

Saikia sighed, leaned back in the chair.  “So that leaves us with what?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Spit it out, Gaav.”

“We’ve got this animal on my homeworld. A shynzig. Its lifecyle is analogous to your tarantula wasp.”

Saikia straightened up, put his drink aside.  “Go on.”

“It’s got this nasty poison which can paralyze creatures several times its size. Once it gets them, it burrows into them. It’s a relatively small incision. Hard to find. The shynzig then goes into a cocoon stage, preparing for the next cycle of its life; a breeding cycle, if you’re interested. Live young. When the shynzig comes out of its cocoon, it’s hungry. Very hungry. It eats its way out.”

“Weight is down to under 15,000 metric tons.” Update from Navigation, which was in touch with the astrometrics section.

Gaav looked back at his captain.  “I think we’re not picking up any energy because something is feeding.”

Saikia felt a cold chill run up him.  “Shields up. Red alert.” The klaxons went off. Computer voice assuring everyone to attend to their stations. “Helm, let’s get some distance between us and the phenomenon. Navigation, plot us a course to get us away from here, maximum warp.” Saikia could feel his mood spread to the rest of the crew and, for just a moment, he felt sure the other vessel could feel it too. It felt like there was a palpable and malicious glee coming from outside his ship.

Space didn ’t feel so silent anymore. Nor as wide as he would have wanted it.

“This is ridiculous. We should blow it up.” Gaav’s suggestion surprised Saikia. That directness was out of character.

Helm was quick to respond.  “I can draw up a firing solution.”

Saikia shook his head.  “Belay that.” Both officers looked surprised, even defiant. “We’re not going to blow anything up until it proves to be a threat.”

They didn ’t seem reassured.

“We are scientists.” Saikia jabbed a finger towards the screen. “Do you think a small thing like that is going to frighten us?” His words sounded hollow, even as he spoke them. Saikia thought he saw a flash of anger on the helmsman’s face. Gaav snorted in obvious disgust.

“What if it’s a new Romulan weapon?” Navigation was now joining in.

Saikia clenched a fist.  “We’re nowhere near the Romulan treaty zone.”

Helm made a noise of irritation.  “That didn’t stop them before.”

“And they’re the only ones with cloaking technology.”

“Except for the Klingons.” The comment from Communications was just above a whisper. “The Klingons have excellent cloaks and they’re not afraid of violating treaties. Or hurting others.”

Saikia found himself pounding his fist on his chair.  “Have you all gone  _ insane _ ? ” he cursed. “Remember your training, attend to your station. And leave that conspiracy nonsense off the bridge!”

Slowly, they started to respond, even as Saikia had to push down an irrational anger. It took him a moment to recognize that Navigation was reporting in.  “What?” Saikia’s voice sounded more aggressive than he wanted.

“Tonnage is at 5,000.”

“It’s increasing its rate of consumption.” Gaav noted, fingers drumming impatiently on the console.

Saikia bit back a frustrated response. Waves of emotion swept over him.

“3,000”

“Keep our distance.” Saikia took a deep breath to ease his tension. “Navigation, prepare to engage warp.”

“2,200”

“Helm, hand off that phaser control. If we fire, I want it on my command.”

“1,000”

“Communications, I want an open hail, in case there’s an intelligence involved.”

“500”

“Engineering, I want damage control on alert, ready for anything.”

“Aye, sir.”

“200”

“All stations ready.”

“100… no. 75.”

Gaav gripped the nav console harder.  “Any minute now.”

“60… 45… 30. 23. 10. 5. 1.”

The wreckage in front of them vanished.

“Science. Report.”

No response.

“Gaav!”

Gaav shook his head.  “I don’t know. I’ll… get back to my station.” He only managed to get a single step.

“Sensor contact!” From Helm.

“Report!”

“Object is approximately a meter in diameter.”

“Composition?”

“Pure energy.”

Gaav ’s eyes were showing a panicked white. “What’s it doing?”

“Heading at us, sub-light speed.”

“Nav, prepare to engage!”

“Speed increasing!”

Saikia felt that spike of fear again.  “What?”

“Impact imminent!”

An explosion of color as something hit the shields, hard enough to rock the entire ship.

“Where is it? What happened?” Saikia was looking around for answers.

“I don’t know.” Helm had gone pale. “It hit and… maybe it’s in here? With us?”

“You stupid tharg.” Gaav snarled. He grabbed a knife from off the nav console. “You’ve killed us all!” He whirled and charged the captain, plunging the blade into Saikia’s shoulder. Saikia had just a moment to wonder where the hell that knife had come from before the bridge erupted in violence and darkness took him.


	2. Shadow of Kodos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In charge of a ship filled with Klingons, Andorians and a more 'testy' breed of humans, Worf assesses a colony on the verge of destruction.

“ _Report, Lieutenant.”_

Captain Worf noted, with some amusement, that the sharp snap of his voice still made some humans  _ nervous _ . This particular one always flinched. Worf ’s second noticed it too and never failed to follow up with a toothy, vaguely menacing grin. The grin would set Worf’s Andorian science officer off, both in amusement and then in slight (mostly feigned) disgust at the violation of protocol.

It wasn ’t easy commanding a test ship made up of half Klingon and half Federation members.

Worf had not accepted the commission because it was easy.

The U.S.S.  _ qul Hu _ _ ’Hovmey _ , first of its class, combined a number of technologies from both allied and encountered races. A measure of common success shared by the Empire and the Federation as well as a testament to the odds they had overcome. A crew customized to match what considered by some to be pure lunacy, with allegedly incompatible pieces working side by side.

It didn ’t matter what others thought.

Worf was proud of his ship. Its mission was not to explore new worlds, deal with new civilizations or new life or boldly go. They were commissioned to be the problem solvers.

It amused Worf how many people assumed that meant violence. A number of Andorians had jumped at the chance to be on his crew. Some notable Tellarites. A small group of tenacious humans and a single pair of Vulcan observers. All of whom understood that while violence was an  _ option _ , it certainly wasn ’t the only option. His brothers from the Empire would say that violence without honor was not worth drawing their blades. The Andorians would add that if their opponent was weaker, then it was never honorable. The views between the two species balanced each other acceptably.

“The most recent reports from Ancilles III indicate the initial assessment was correct.”

Worf tapped a finger on the table.  “Less words, Lieutenant.”

“He’s about to begin mass executions. Like Tarsus IV.”

Worf frowned. A name he recognized: Tarsus IV had been a human colony planet; a fungus destroyed most of the food supply; a governor ordered only the fit would survive. Of course, he was the one to decide who was  “fit” and slaughtered the rest like  _ bregit _ . To no one ’s surprise, the governor was among the living when the rescue ships came.

The colony at Ancilles III ran into problems when their sun unexpectedly emitted a sustained burst of berthold rays. This caused a surge, blowing out the majority of their food replicators and cracking their dilithium crystals. The only thing between them and the a rather horrible death was the thickness of their colony domes. Without the resources of a starship, they couldn ’t re-crystallize their dilithium. Without power, their ability to grow food inside, the only safe space, was limited at best. As the closest ship, the  _ qul Hu _ _ ’Hovmey  _ had been dispatched to aid them. Despite heading towards the colony at warp 8, it was taking more time than anyone was comfortable with.

Then came the reports. Sporadic at first but increasing in frequency. Individual deaths, then more organized. Now all confirmed. It came from the top, from the Federation governor and that made little sense. Worf called up the man ’s file again. A veteran of the Dominion Wars, had battled both against and for the Maquis before that. Fiercely loyal to those under his command. This reported behavior went against everything known about him.  _ This _ one was unlike the coward of Tarsus IV. He would have taken his own life before hurting those in rank beneath him.

“Suggestions.” The tone was so low, it came across as a rumble.

“We’re still a week out. And… it’s an extreme situation.” The lieutenant offered. “Perhaps, given his history, he snapped. Divided people into survivors and the ‘enemy’.”

Worf ’s second frowned. “How like a  _ human _ . To assume that the glory of battle has to break a man. ”

The lieutenant grimaced.  “We’re not all built like Klingons. Things happen.”

The Andorian unfolded his fingers, steepled before him, and allowed his multi-jointed fingers to perform an expressive and complicated gesture.  “Even for a human, this one’s profile would indicate an exceptional reliance. I think you would agree?” The last comment was directed at Worf’s second. The Klingon nodded in assent.

“What is your assessment?” Worf asked.

The Andorian refolded his hands, leaned on it.  “Berthold rays can cause harm to organic tissues. Perhaps brain damage?”

“Very specific.” Worf noted.

“I understand. It’s not a very solid hypothesis.”

“And how would he get others to help him?” noted the lieutenant.

The Andorian frowned.  “Point, taken. Brain damage to one individual is sensible. But if these many deaths are occurring…”

“ _qaStaHvIS wa' ram loSSaD Hugh SIjlaH qetbogh loD_ _”_ The Klingon replied. _Four thousand throats could be cut in a single night._

“ _meQtaHbogh qachDaq Suv qoH neH_ _”_ Worf responded. _Only a fool fights in a burning house._ “And his ‘house’ is quite literally on fire.”

The Klingon grunted.  “So what say you, Captain?”

“ _leghlaHchu'be'chugh mIn lo'laHbe' taj jej”_ Worf stated. “We are missing something here. The planet was isolated to begin with. The berthold rays explain why it was never successfully colonized before. But this.” He rapped the table. “I see only that we do not see.”

“Orders?” asked the Andorian.

“Do we have a defense against the berthold rays?”

The Andorian scratched behind his left antenna.  “I could synthesize the Omicron Ceti defense.” He noted the human’s brow wrinkle, questioning. “A protein derivative, plant-based. It provides protection, with some side effects.”

The Klingon snorted.  “Which are?”

The Andorian looked at Worf ’s second. “You might get nice.” The Klingon glared at the Andorian, trying to determine if he was joking. He wasn’t.

The Klingon snorted, then laughed heartily.  “At least I’d be able to tolerate that one!” He pointed at the lieutenant.

“Give him a double dose.” The lieutenant deadpanned.

The Andorian flashed a smile and the lieutenant let his guard down and smiled back.

“Prepare the antidote.” Worf commanded. “And set speed to maximum warp. See how long we can hold it.”

The bridge crew nodded and rose to leave. The Klingon deliberately moved to shoulder check the lieutenant, who didn ’t budge. The two men locked eyes. The Klingon finally gave the human a smile and let him be.

“wa'DIch.” Worf said. “A moment.”

The rest left.

“Is this about the human?” The Klingon hooked a thumb in the general direction of the lieutenant. “I like him.”

Worf gave a tight-lipped smile and shook his head.  “It is not. He gives you respect and you do right back. That is well.”

Worf ’s second nodded.

“I held you back because there is another possible source of the berthold rays.”

“Other than the star?”

Worf nodded. He keyed in an entry on his computer.  “There is a race called the Calamarain. They  _ also _ produce berthold rays. ”

“And if it is them?”

“We are unlikely to survive the encounter.”

Worf ’s second took a moment to judge Worf’s mood. It was solemn. He took his seat again. “Why not tell the others?”

“It is… unlikely that it is this race. But if it is, they might recognize me and those results might be unpleasant.”

“What can I do?”

“I’ve sent all the data we have to your tactical console. I need you to devise at least a dozen different scenarios to deal with them.”

“And if those don’t work?”

Worf chuckled, without humor, and he showed his teeth.  “Well, then, my wa'DIch…” He reached across the table to clap his second on the shoulder. “We die well.”


	3. Servant of Mars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Academy dive into the core of Mars unearths an ancient horror.

“It’s like swimming.”

There was the sound of a choked laugh on the open channel.  “So… you burrow through solid rock often?”

“It’s more like slurry than solid rock.”

“Admit it. You’re a Horta.”

“Ha ha.”

“He’s got a point.”

“Don’t encourage him! He’ll only start talking about submarines next.”

“Submarines are _incredible_! This is just like being on one…”

“See?”

“I didn’t start it.”

“ETA to geode, 3 minutes.”

The shuttle Persephone, specially modified for this mission, possessed a set of rotating phasers, harmonizing shields to allow phasing without a breach, a wedge-shaped shield projector to facilitate intra-earth transport and a team brave enough to consider tunneling through Mars ’ mantle to be a challenge rather than Nature’s way of saying ‘Keep Out.’ The team of six was composed of two geologists from the New Brussels Geological Institute, three cadets from the Academy, and a local to observe the whole thing. It had been the dream of Marcia Alonze, one of the cadets, who noted that some anomalous readings from a Mars survey matched her graduate thesis predicting the fate of celestial impacts above a certain size on the Red Planet. Or, as she put it more briefly, the idea that a meteorite could hit hard enough to lodge a piece under the planet’s skin.

The Academy had co-funded an expedition to confirm her hypothesis and the initial readings had been promising. Not only a potential meteor, but one that had a hollowed out interior, likely a geode-analogue caused by interior gases trapped within the meteorite. They had already found traces of disilicon, tritanium and trans-uranic elements. From that standpoint alone, it was an exciting discovery. And Cadet Alonze was going to be the first to stand inside it. The purpose of the expedition was to breach the geode, take samples and return. Their success would fund the larger project to bring the entire site up to the surface. It would offer a wealth of information about Mars prehistory.

“Approaching target.”

“I would like to thank the Academy for making this so much harder.”

“How so?”

“They could have loaned us the Pegasus phasing device.”

“The completely and totally illegal phasing device?”

“That would be the one.”

“That would be unethical.”

“But it’s science.”

“Would you please all be quiet?” Alonze begged. “We’re about to make contact.” Her internal time sense was counting down in anticipation. Twenty seconds. Fifteen. Ten. The shuttlecraft shuddered as it gently impacted with the meteorite, swinging around so that its specially modified airlock synced with the rough exterior. “Have we got core analysis?”

One of the other students nodded.  “It’s hollow. We’ve got the dimensions.”

“Transporter, activate Lock Protocol.”

“Engaged.”

The familiar whine of the shuttle transporter filled the space. Alonze couldn ’t breathe for a moment. Silence. She wanted to say something but she knew the right people on it, working hard. Finally, a triumphant clap. “We have symmetry!”

Alonze couldn ’t help her grin. “Suit up, people.”

At least one person had to complain.  “I don’t see why we couldn’t just transport in.”

“Trans-uranic elements.” quipped one of the geologists. “We’d prefer to lose a door than a student.”

Alonze still couldn ’t keep the glee out of her voice. “And think of it. Phasering through the meteorite’s exterior, sampling it. Then we’ve got a synced ‘airlock’ we can scan from. It’s perfect.”

“It’s going to take forever.”

“Science.” The other geologist replied. The local just shook his head, laughed, and went to get some coffee.

“Are we still planning on using the McCoy Silicate Protocol?

“On the way back out.”

“Airlock is ready.”

“Let’s do this.”

The entire operation fell into a comfortable rhythm. Almost sixteen hours, teams of three in front, two in back, sampling. At about ten meters from the end, Alonze forced a break and a night-cycle rest. At first she couldn ’t sleep until the lead geologist jokingly threatened to hit her with a tranquilizer. She finally dreamed of a field of flowers, bees buzzing, harvesting from one to the next. She tried to reach out to touch one, only discovering she was one of the blooms.

It was darker than she thought when she woke up. She went over, checked the time. Fifteen minutes over where she wanted to be awake. There was a team already down the hole, two and one. One of the students was still asleep. The local was at the front, puzzling over a reading.

“Problem?” she asked.

“No. Just a weight re-distribution in the meteorite. I guess transporting the door stirred up more than we thought.”

“Will it be an issue?”

“I don’t think so. Just make sure the pressure is equalized and it should self-correct.”

Alonze nodded, kicked her classmate out of bed, and headed down the hole.

From approved thesis to this moment. It felt like such a short time, like the work had been relatively simple compared to the payoff. She knew both feelings were a gross exaggeration but her excitement kept bubbling over. Her companions greeted her at the pinch point. She nodded. The last of their group joined them as they breached the final meter of rock and connected with the synced airlock door. She dialed up the pressure to match the readings on the other side and gave the thumbs up. They opened the door.

There was barely a hiss, only a few molecules of transfer between the outside and the interior. Activating her suit-jets, she floated into the mystery.

It was beautiful. The light on her suit, shining into the distance, reflecting off of purple crystals the size of skyscrapers, the size of starships. Everything glistened, almost like a diamond dust was in the air.  “Are you getting this?” It was a redundant question. Of course they were recording everything.

One by one, they were going out, like dandelions in a field. Training kicked in. She looked back at the geologists. One of them gave her the thumbs up. She was doing fine. And the smile on the geologist showed her how excited he was to be there too. The atmosphere was charged, a blue-ish light, almost in the ultraviolet, occasionally raced through the air.

“Do you smell that?”

Alonze frowned.  “What?”

“You can’t smell anything through the suit.” That was from the geologist. “Do a level 1 diagnostics.”

“But I do. It’s like… honey.”

“What did you have for breakfast?”

“Very funny. Why did it get so cold.”

Alonze felt her chest tighten.  “Do a diagnostics check.” She insisted.

“I… it’s fine. It’s green.” There was a pause. “It hurts…”

Something was wrong. She turned. The geologist was already scanning the student ’s suit remotely. “The suit’s fine.”

“I…” the student’s voice suddenly cut off and he seized up. The team immediately responded but Alonze was the first to him. 

His face.

It was the palest thing she ’d ever seen. Like all of the blood had been pulled from him.

In the air around her, just a tinge of crimson.

It wasn ’t possible.

The geologist sounded shaken.  “He’s missing…”

Alonze pulled away from her classmate, cutting off the geologist.  “Back to the shuttle. Back, now.”

“What is it?”

“ _This is the shuttle to team. What_ _’s going on?_ ”

“I’m smelling it too! Like honey!”

“Get back!”

“Oh no! Oh no…”

She couldn ’t turn around, couldn’t check on the others. The door. If she could only reach the door.

A horrible silence descended.

She smelled it. So sweet. It was like the scent of a particularly sweet nectar, like the fragrant orchids back home. Her fingers were only inches from the airlock. She reached out.

Too late.


	4. A Day in the Life (The Quartermaster's Lament)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quartermaster Lee Verity, with an update. It might be regarding bloodwine.

_ Quartermaster _ _ ’s Log, Stardate 59233.32 _

_ Personal Log _

I think my first request —once I get out of Medical—is going to be for someone to assign me an ensign.

The thing nobody warns you about, serving on a ship this size, is when they give you the position of quartermaster, it comes with a ton of paperwork. I end up running at least a couple of days behind, on average, and this trip to sickbay doesn ’t help. I can feel the work piling up. At this rate, I’ll have to travel back in time to catch up on everything. 

I ’m whining. I apologize both to my future self and anyone else reading this log. My head still hurts from being repeatedly slammed against the deck.

So. This last run. I know a lot of the crew were looking forward to  ‘The Risa Run’ but we had a command staff turnover at the last minute, in addition to dealing with the shipment on hand. That meant rec time was cut in half, for me included. I don’t think I had more than a handful of hours to myself and that was all on station; no planetary visits. Morale was low. I get it. I don’t think it’s fair that they shipped McReady down to the planet without authorization. I’m sure  _ he _ didn ’t think it was fair that I had him scrubbing out cargo containers when he got back. He should have known better. We run a tight ship and we have a ridiculously tight schedule. That’s the risk you run, when you ship with the Merchant Marine.

I ’m happy to report the tritanium shipment was finally delivered. Turns out the folks who requisitioned it were a small contingent of Bolian engineers building a solar scoop at a nearby sun. We got plenty of credit for it, but unfortunately, the Bolians didn't need quite as much as they originally estimated. I managed to barter the rest out to the station for common repairs so we could clear up space.

Speaking of space, the freight handlers at the station joked about feeding the extra trit to the next borg ship that wandered by. Then they went on to talk about how vessels were disappearing the next sector over. Made sure I heard that. Very funny. They were just trying to rile us up because mysterious disappearances are  _ exactly _ what a barely-armed mid-range cargo vessel wants to hear about. Thanks guys. We appreciate it and will find some way to retaliate in kind, in the future. Honestly, I just wish Starfleet personnel would acknowledge that we love space as much as they do.

In addition to the  ‘fun’ jokes, this is the third time I've had a shipment conveniently 'lost' on the Risa run. I honestly don't know who I ticked off but it's always a junior NCO that brings me the bad news. There was that brawl between the Andorian pod on our ship and those four brothers about 2 runs back, but that’s old news. They wouldn’t hold a grudge this long, would they? My people certainly didn’t. I thought this was supposed to be a ‘pleasure planet.’ Live and let live, and that sort of stuff.

This time, Trakeen was on-call with me when we learned about the missing shipment. He took it a little harder than I did. It took pretty much everything I had to convince him not to stick a knife in the junior NCO. Yep. That bad. And you know things are getting serious when an Andorian is all ready to go  _ ushaan _ on your dumb butt. In the end, the base CO got involved so Junior got to breathe another day. Lucky him, and no harm done.

To settle the issue, the CO miraculously came up with three boxes of Risean perfume, 24 bottles total, and added it to our inventory, allegedly at a  ‘greatly reduced cost’, which still cost me more ship credits than I would have liked. Normally, I hate reaching into our stores of credit but this looked like a fairly good trade and I know some of the outer worlds who will relish a chance to get some of this Risean stuff, even if it’s just for nostalgia’s sake.

In other news, regarding the staff turnover. It ’s one of a few dozen taking place across the Federation, in both Starfleet and affiliated services like the Merchant Marine. For us, that meant about a dozen specialists and one Klingon, from a minor House. The word is that exchanges like this have been extremely important after the Klingon civil war and the Dominion war; if there was ever a time when the course of history could be changed for the better, this is it.

The Klingon. I ’m going to save my report for a little further down. I’m going to talk about the scrub first.

Our newbie is an empath and, unfortunately, she ’s going to be a problem, doubly so since she’s just recently released from the Academy. Word is she’s waiting for a posting on a starship but wants to get in some hours in space before her commission comes open. The Merchant Marine was her compromise. Given her powers, I doubt she’s going to be in for a fun ride on this vessel. She'll already requested special quarters to re-coup from her first contact with our rowdy crew, especially with the new Klingon on board and our Andorian pod.

_ Side note: I just realized I will need to requisition livemeals for the Klingon. I think I _ _ ’ve still got some decent connections on-planet for Klingon aquatics. We’ll probably want to set two to four connected rooms aside on Deck 8 for the livefeed. I know the Klingon won't want to bunk near prey. That also means I will have to keep the livemeal happy and healthy so their negative emotions won’t disturb the empath before they’re eaten.  _

_ Side side note: If I bunk the empath next to the livemeal space, that should (1) effectively give her the space she needs and (2) give me the opportunity to use her as an emergency warning if issues do appear with the livemeal. That sounds doable! _

I ’m trying to remember how many types of bloodworm Klingons eat. Is it three different species? Or four? Have to look into that.

Okay … just received a message from docking control. The base CO is adding something to our cargo manifest, due to the trouble with the missing shipment. Bloodwine. That’s nice of him! 

And … that has to be a typo.

Thirty five  _ thousand _ gallons?

_ Synthesized? _

Who in their right mind drinks synthesized bloodwine? This has to be a joke. I really hope it ’s a joke. Otherwise I’m going to have to find a way to dump it at the next port of call. Maybe as a protein supplement? Tellarites. I think I can offload it with the Tellarites. They love bloodwine and are nowhere near as picky as the Klingons.

I ’m still trying to figure out whether it's the base CO getting me back for threatening his junior officer or whether it's his inflated sense of trying to prove Risa is special. I suppose I’ll never know. Maybe I’ll send him some of the homebrew Engineering and Medical have been cooking up in Bay 4 that they still think I don’t know about. That ought to sizzle his nostrils.

I ’m feeling tired again, which means its time to let the neural stimulators get back to work. I should explain that. Small cultural misunderstanding. The new Klingon officer was convinced, somehow, that my rank was superior to his, and in honor of our captain, decided to challenge me to my position. Physically. With great enthusiasm. Actually, pretty painful enthusiasm. It was an interesting experience. Hopefully one I won’t need to repeat any time soon.

He ’s in the bed next to mine.

Nurse Cera assures me my cranial injuries will heal without incident. He ’ll be in intensive care a few more hours. I suppose it’s all good. He had the biggest smile on his face when I took his knife and managed to stab him with it a few times.

I guess I ’ve made a new friend?

At least it gives me some time to update my logs and get some rest.

Lee Verity, Quartermaster,  _ SS Tawny Sets, _ signing off.


	5. A Day in the Life (A Captain's Command)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude with the captain and a significantly longer one with the first in command.

“Mr. Verity.” Lee had only managed one step out of the turbolift.

“Yes, Captain.” He straightened to attention. An automatic habit from school.

“Can you explain why one of my cargo containers is holding thirty-five _thousand_ gallons of bloodwine?”

“Gift, sir.”

“Synthesized bloodwine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Merrick turned around.  “Somebody hate you that much, Verity?”

“I’d like to think it was my winning personality, sir.”

“You planning on drinking it all by your lonesome?”

“Of course not, sir. Double rations for the crew. Every meal.”

Helm choked back a laugh. Captain Merrick put on an obviously faked grimace.  “Oh you think that’s funny, do you?” He turned back towards the viewer. “Communications. Put up the Board.”

“Aye sir.”

A list of haulers from the Merchant Service appeared on the screen, along with an abbreviated cargo list and ship credits.  “Do you see that?” Merrick asked.

“I do, sir.”

“Cannelly is in the lead. Again.”

“I see it, sir.”

The captain mock-glared at Lee.  “Do you know what that means?”

“You owe him a bottle of scotch, sir.”

“I owe him a bottle of scotch.”

“With respect, you’ve owed him a scotch for every year for the last decade.”

The captain threw up his arms.  “And do you know how difficult it is to find authentic scotch out here? Do we do a run by Earth, Helm?”

“No, sir.” Helm perkily answered.

“The closest we come to it is that mining colony. What’s the name of it?”

“Panos IV, sir.”

“Panos IV.” The captain shook his head. “Do they have very good scotch?”

“No, sir.”

Lee kept a straight face.  “Terribly sorry about that, sir.”

The captain nodded.  “Damn straight you should be. You have a plan for the thirty-five thousand gallons of bloodwine?”

“You mean the protein supplement, sir?”

“Protein supplement?” The captain stroked his chin. “I can see that.” He nodded. “Carry on, Verity.”

“Thank you sir.”

“And no pawning it off on the crew.”

“Absolutely not, sir.”

The sounds of the bridge went back to normal. They were at cruising speed, heading to the outer edge of their normal route. A chance to test minor system upgrades that had been part of the maintenance back at Risa. Not part of Lee ’s department. His job was to simply care for the inventory and the crew that would get it to where it was supposed to go.

He went up to the first officer ’s station and presented his report.

“Klah”

“ _nugneH_.”

“Daily report.” Lee responded and handed the Klingon his PADD. “How’s the liver?”

The Klingon chuckled.  “Regrowing fast.” He leaned towards Lee. “Where did you learn to fight like that? You don’t fight like a  _ human _ . ”

“Some training in school.” Lee admitted. “But most of it I learned when I came on ship. About a quarter of the people who work for me are an Andorian pod.”

“ _jlyajbe_ _’_?”

Lee scratched his chin, trying to figure out how to explain it.  “Family. No… spouses. Sort of. Married.”

“Mates?”

“Sometimes.” Lee couldn’t figure a way to describe the situation without getting into a lecture on Andorian anatomy and that was just an odd topic in general. “They took a liking to me when we first met and they figured they should teach me how to fight properly, in case I’d have to fight them for my honor.”

Klah ’s eyes lit up at that. “They are a violent people.”

Lee smiled.  “Certainly a passionate one.” He pulled up his sleeve, showing off a scar. “They wanted me to keep this as a souvenir of our first real argument. Wouldn’t let me get it regenerated”

Klah cocked his head.  “And you fight with them often?”

Lee nodded.  “On and off. Not usually with the blade.”

Klah grinned.  “I may like these people.”

“You need to sign that.”

The Klingon made a grunt and then looked over the PADD. He affirmed it was correct and handed it back to Lee. Lee nodded and turned to leave, only to get slapped roughly on the shoulder.

“Yes?”

“That thing on the viewer.”

“The Board.”

“What is it for?”

“A ranking system.”

Klah nodded, as if understanding and turned around. Lee paused. Sure enough, the Klingon turned back to face him.  “ _ jlyajbe _ _ ’ _ . You humans pride yourself on having no money. But you have these credits. ” He waved towards the screen. “You value them.”

Lee chuckled.  “Whenever we can, we give people what they need, right?”

Klah grunted assent.

“But what happens when you can’t? What’s that Klingon proverb? _Not every warrior can climb the mountain_.” The saying referred to a battle, to one warrior holding the highest ground because he could only be attacked by on a limited number of sides.

“What’s your point, _human_?”

Lee pointed his stylus towards the screen.  “Credits? They tell us who goes up the mountain first.”

Klah looked at the screen, then at Lee.  “You humans do have some honor.”

“I’d like to think so.” Lee put on a good face at that, but even saying it gave him a twinge of pain. Old memories. He reined those feelings in and leaned on the console next to Klah, pointing at the different ships on the list. “Not everybody can be on an Enterprise or, even a fleet ship. But you can get people what they might need.”

“Weapons.”

“Medicine.”

Klah snorted.  “Bottles of perfume.” He jostled the PADD is Lee’s hand.

Lee nodded  “Or bottles of scotch.” He smiled. “Be the fastest. Or the safest. Or the biggest hauler. Look out for people. Explore new routes. Or keep old ones well traveled. Then you can still be out there. You can still travel across the stars.” He sighed, turning back to Klah. “And if you do it right, people will talk about your ship. They’ll give you credit for what you’ve done and they’ll believe in you. Not as glorious as being on the frontline but still…”

“Still a good life.” responded the captain, interrupting Lee. “Still a fulfilling one.” He nodded to both Lee and the Klingon and then turned his attention back to work.

Lee put his stylus back onto his PADD.  “There was this group, back in Earth history. They were supposed to be knights… warriors. But on the way to the battle, they came across a group of people who were trying to bring supplies. These people had been beaten, had been broken and they were pleading for help. The warriors had to give up their shot at glory to protect these folks and get those supplies to the battle. Once there, people begged them to take the wounded home. To take messages home. And even some of the riches the people at the battle had gained on their journey. These warriors promised they’d do it. They’d get everything home safely. They wouldn’t cheat these people or rob them. Somehow, they kept being talked in to doing it, again and again, for centuries, until they became more powerful than kings, than whole nations.”

The Klingon was curious.  “What happened to them?”

Lee ’s expression grew distant, if only for a moment. “There were men out there without honor.”

Klah studied Lee ’s reaction for a moment and then clapped him twice on the shoulder. “I understand.” He gripped Lee hard, just once, and let him go.

Lee nodded and went to the turbolift.  “I do, too.” He said softly.


	6. A Day in the Life (A Crew's Attention)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee takes care of some personal business, and then some business that has become personal.

The door to the Andorian quarters chirped and opened. Lee immediately felt the chill of it sink in; it was a familiar feeling by now. The inside was dim, by Terran standards, lit solely by the glow of a pit filled with heated stones, simulating a traditional Andorian hearth.

“ _Atlolla andasu._ ” The voice that offered Lee greeting trilled with delight.

“ _Shras amtal_.” Lee lightly joked back.

The owner of the voice, gently smacked him on the arm.  “ _ Kav. _ ” She accused him and waved him inside. “Thrakeen, Verity is here.”

Lee rubbed his arm, noting the growing bruise. When he spotted the Andorian ’s concern, he simply said “Klingon” as if that explained everything.

“Illumination up, 100 lumens.” Thrakeen’s voice was clear, with a subtler and deeper burr to his voice than his Andorian podmate. The lighting came up a little more. Still dusky, but better.

Lee took a look around the large room.  “You’ve redecorated again.”

Thrakeen nodded.  “Ondala decided it was time for a change.”

“It looks good.” replied Lee. “Is that the battle at Ankor-Ka?” Ondala was attending to Lee’s bruised arm with a light touch, which was more soothing than it had a right to be. Lee remembered that some people back on Earth compared an Andorian’s trill to the purr of a cat; oddly enough, it had mild healing properties. A weird fact to pop up at this time but he could feel the rumble through Ondala’s fingertips.

“Good eye.” she said.

Thrakeen walked up to Lee and put two knuckles at the base of where antennae would be on an Andorian. Thrakeen bowed his head.  “I apologize for threatening the officer.” The emotion in Thrakeen’s voice was genuine. “It was improper.”

Lee put his hands on Thrakeen ’s shoulders, reciprocating with the human gesture for friendship. “Honestly, my friend, if he had talked for much longer, I would have threatened him with the  _ ushaan _ myself. ”

Thrakeen smiled, gently bumped Lee ’s forehead with his own and backed away. “I would have loved to see that.”

Lee smiled and made his way to a floor cushion next to the hearth.  “I bet you would.” He looked around. “Are the other members of your pod here?”

“Matla is in term right now, so Lexu is acting as her _chen_.”

Lee winced.  “Ouch. Double-shifts for you, then?”

Thrakeen frowned.  “That’s how it appears.” Ondala moved away from Lee’s side and to Thrakeen, wrapping an arm around him to soothe his distress. 

“I’ll do what I can to ease things up.” Lee made a mental note to make sure Matla got some raw meat; she was in an energy-intensive time. He didn’t really understand the details of it but he did understand the general needs and that’s probably why Thrakeen, Ondala and Lexu appreciated him in the way that they did. “At the next stop, I need you to handle the negotiations with the Gradu Consortium.”

Thrakeen frowned.  “Tellarites.”

“You handled them well last time.”

“I think I was drunk.”

“They were very complementary of you.”

“Maybe they were drunk.”

Ondala laughed.

“I’d do it normally.” Lee continued. “You know I would. But there are complications this time.”

Thrakeen looked confused. Ondala got it. She leaned up against Thrakeen, so their heads were touching.  “The bloodwine.”

“Protein supplement.” Lee corrected with a grin.

“Protein supplement?” Thrakeen reacted with mock horror. “That’s a guaranteed argument.”

“And no one argues better with a Tellarite than an Andorian.”

“That’s just because we’re willing to draw blades and you’re not.”

“It’s called ‘out-of-the-box’ thinking. We appreciate it.”

“I could handle it.” Ondala offered.

Lee held up his hands  “He’s the level headed one.”

“What was that?” The blade was instantly in Ondala’s hand. Lee held her stare for about thirty seconds, before all three of them started laughing.

“I’ll handle it.” Thrakeen finally added.

“Thank you, Thrakeen.” Lee said as he got up to go. “I look forward to seeing how it all turns out.”

“You and me both.” The Andorian responded, and then dimmed the light as Lee found his way out the door.

* * *

 

From the Andorian quarters, Lee went directly down to Engineering. He had a little problem he had to take care of.

“Good evening, Quartermaster.” That was from the chief engineering officer, Stalzi, when Lee entered engineering. Lee nodded but didn’t stop. Instead, he stalked across the entire length of engineering until he got to the engines. Then, he turned, glaring at the chief, before slamming his hand on a panel, which conveniently popped out. He reached in, again without watching, and pulled out a dark brown glass bottle.

He slammed it on the console hard enough that the bottle rattled.

“Turpentine.” The chief said. “To clean the engine.”

“Seriously?” Lee’s look expressed how ridiculous that excuse sounded. “You’re going with turpentine?”

Stalzi walked up to grab the bottle. Lee didn ’t let go. That left the two men staring at each other, angrily.

“I don’t drink on the job.”

“I never said you did.”

“Then what I do in my spare time is none of your business.”

“It isn’t. What _is_ my business is the health and welfare of the crew.”

Stalzi gave Lee a sulking smile.  “A little drop now and then never hurt anyone.”

“What’s in it?”

“What?”

Lee shrugged, keeping his face placid and clear of anger.  “I fancy myself an amateur brewer. What’s in it?”

“A little of this, a little of that. Family secret. Ask the computer. She’ll tell you all about fermentation.”

“I asked already. Very, very informative.” Lee paused for a moment, considering. “Family secret.” Stalzi nodded. “So, which part of that secret is so secret that you can’t synthesize it?”

Stalzi just shot Lee a quizzical look.

“No, really.” Lee stated aggressively. “I want to know. You’ve got access to all the replicators but this one ingredient—the same one that sent Biggins to detox in medbay—you’re not synthesizing that. Or did you deliberately erase the records?”

Stalzi paled. Trying to tamper with official records was a court martial offense.  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Prove it.” Lee pushed. “What’s the ingredient?”

Stalzi pulled away, shuffled around for a moment.  “ _ Forshak _ . ”

“Forshak.” Lee frowned. “Forshak _mold_?! Are you serious?”

Stalzi shrugged.

“That stuff is illegal.”

“Only in the Klingon Empire.”

“Why the hell would you use that?”

“The merchant who sold it me. He said it would give it a little kick.” Stalzi smiled. “And boy, it did.”

“Yeah, because you don’t have two livers to chase out the toxins.”

“Well, it’s not illegal.”

Lee considered his options. He held out the bottle and then smashed it to the ground when Stalzi reached for it.  “It may not be illegal but it is  _ not _ welcome on this ship. ”

Stalzi shrugged, sullen.

Lee touched the communicator on his chest.  “First Officer Klah.”

“Klah here.”

“I was wondering if you could come down to Engineering and have a talk with our chief engineer.”

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“Our shipmate is running a still down here and it’s interfering with crew morale.”

“You wouldn’t…” Stalzi whispered.

“Perhaps you could help him see the issues this might cause?”

“I’m coming down. Klah out.”

Lee ’s steady gaze held Stazi like a knife. “Forshak’s not illegal in the Federation. You’re right. But I’ll bet if he even gets a whiff of this stuff, Klah’s not going to see the distinction.”

“You son of a…”

Lee cut him off.  “You don’t have a lot of time to get rid of this  _ forshak _ . ” Lee put in the emphasis that made  _ forshak _ a Klingon curse.  “You might want to hurry. And I’m not afraid to have Klah search the entire ship, every nook and cranny. Which I think will just make him more irritable. What do you think?”

Stalzi was fuming.

“That’s what I thought.” Lee pointed to the door. “Now, run.”


	7. The Dutchman Waits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee's ship comes across an ominously silent U.S.S. Argent. But if nothing's wrong, why is their empath losing her mind?

“ _Condition Yellow._ _”_

The computer voice was crisp and calm, followed by the sharp whistle signaling intra-ship communication. The general chatter in the cargo bay quieted immediately.

Contrasting the computer ’s calm, the message from the bridge was tense. “ _ Captain to the Bridge. _ ”

“All right people, listen up!” Lee was already mentally going through his checklist. “I want the couplers through a type 1 diagnostic and _visually_ checked. You got that?” There was a call of affirmatives from the deck crew.

“I need the foam lines up and verified.” Lee continued. “Firemen suited and on deck.” The foam was an automatic cushion for the cargo containers, in case of explosive decompression or gravitic plating failure. The foam could be injected automatically (preferred) or manually, which is why the fire teams were at the ready. It only took him a couple of minutes to verify that the teams were on task and working smoothly. That done, he started towards the bridge.

A quick side trip to the quarters on deck 8. The livemeals weren ’t part of the cargo proper, so they wouldn’t have foam protection or much in the area of anything except for the couplings that kept their individual habitats secured. They were bloodworms, meaning that temporary exposure to different environments probably won’t be detrimental to them, but Lee wanted to make certain that their habitats were locked at optimal settings before things went sideways.

He didn ’t expect to run into the empath. Her appearance startled him. “Are you alright?”

She was deathly pale, with a thousand-yard stare Lee had seen on veterans of the Dominion War. Sheer panic. She grabbed on to him like he was a lifeline.  “Pain… oh god. They’re screaming… they’re screaming.”

Lee pulled himself from her grip and put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Projecting as much calm as he could, he caught her gaze and he held it.  “Listen.” She wasn’t responsive. “Listen!” A flicker, there. “You went to the Academy. You must have been in Starorzewski’s class. You remember the White Flame?” Again, she didn’t respond, so he shook her, just a little. Enough to re-engage her body, but not affect her head. “Remember?”

A nod.

“The White Flame. Do the exercise.”

He saw her lips starting to move, silently mouthing the mantra at first, then mumbling it, finally saying it aloud. A compilation of Vedic studies from Earth, elements of the Vulcan kahs-wan, and certain Betazoid exercises, the White Flame was meant to ground an empath from outside stimulus. Not a cure-all but a decent stop-gap until they could get help.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“The Quartermaster.”

“ _No_.” She insisted. “ _Who_ are you?”

A chill ran through Lee. She was ranked as an empath, not a telepath, but even that could take her to places he wanted kept private.  “I’m just the quartermaster.” She shuddered and her attention finally came fully into focus. Blinking, she looked at him quizzically. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Get to the Med-Bay.” Lee pointed the way. “Have them check you out.” Before she could object, he added “You’re of no help in a crisis if you’re out of it.” A little bit of an exaggeration but she’d need that boost of certainty to get to help. Medical would be able to determine if it was just a novice’s reaction to the situation or something more profound. She headed off in the right direction.

He jogged off to attend to the livemeal. 

He entered in the code for the modified quarters, opened the door, and then just stood there for a moment in shock. The bloodworms were … it was hard to describe. Agitated didn’t cover it. Enraged? Could these things get emotional? He’d never heard or even imagined something like this. Thrashing about, fighting each other, slamming against their container. The floor was slick with water and secretions. A couple of bloodworms had been flung out.

Something had to be done and quickly.

He risked bites to get the worms on the floor back into the tank and slipped twice getting to the environmental controls. The temperature in the tanks was lowered as quickly as he could, hoping his admittedly cursory knowledge of xeno-annelids could keep things within safe parameters. The solution, he hoped, would only cause the worms temporary discomfort. It took longer than he thought--the violence getting worse as the bloodworms got uncomfortable--but the cold finally reduced them to languidly floating around the tank. He honestly wasn ’t sure how long they’d survive the chill temperatures, so he programmed in a quick cycle of increasing heat and then a dip back into the cold. Not good for the long term but it should suffice until the nature of the yellow alert was determined. He sealed the lids on their tanks and headed towards the bridge.

Lee found himself trying to figure out what he ’d just experienced. The empath’s reaction, the worms; it was doubtful they were a coincidence. One or both of them had to be responding to the incident that caused the yellow alert. If the empath was reacting to the bloodworms only, then the trip to sickbay should put her out of range. If it wasn’t the worms, then there were a number of non-psychic reasons why she could be reacting. Radiation similar to the one found in the Galactic barrier; uncommon but known to trigger sensitives. Certain subspace phenomenon. Even passing through space where a violent incident had occurred in the past could trigger what some smart-ass astrophysicist dubbed “The Ghost Effect.” There were also entities that could set off sensitives. Beings like the Q or the Metron. Those were more likely to appear on the edges of explored space or in well-delineated treaty territories, neither of which they were in.

The turbolift took him to the bridge, its whistle signaling his entrance. Lee immediately took in the tenseness of the crew and went to his station.

The captain was staring at the viewscreen.  “Time until arrival.”

“Ten minutes, sir.”

“Any response to our hails?”

“Negative sir.” Communications responded. “We’ve been cycling them on all regular channels.”

“Try some irregular ones.”

“Aye sir.”

“Navigation?”

“Scans are showing nothing on long-range.”

“What’s the nearest Starfleet vessel?”

“The… I can’t pronounce this.”

“ _qul Hu_ _’Hovmey”_ said Klah. “Means _Fire of the Stars_.”

“Thank you. Communications. Send them a message. Relay the distress signal.”

“They’re still a considerable ways out, Captain.”

Captain Merrick nodded.  “Medical, this is the Captain. Prepare to take on casualties.”

Lee was scanning the board. It was a distress call. A ship. That might be what set the empath off. That didn ’t explain the bloodworms though. Unless she was a projecting empath? That wasn’t in her file but it was a possibility and a talent that could arise under high stress. It would be worth following up on. He send a message down to Medical to check on that.

“ _Lee_.”

Lee realized the Captain had been calling on him. Several times.  “Ship is secure. Board is green, sir.”

“Are we having a problem?”

Lee frowned.  “Nothing apparent. Might be something later.”

Captain Merrick scratched his chin, considering.  “Keep on it.”

“Contact, sir.”

He turned back to the helm.  “Slow to sub-light.”

“Aye sir.”

“Scans.”

“I’ve got a clearer message.” Communication interrupted.

“On-speaker.”

“Text only sir. Severe damage to all systems. Life support is intermittent.”

“Sir…” from Navigation.

“Yes?”

“I’m not picking up anything on scans.”

“Clarify.”

“Life signs, sir. I’m not getting any.”

Klah huffed  “We’re reading some sort of radiation. It’s interfering with the scans. 

“That’s going to inhibit long-range transporters as well.” Lee added.

Captain Merrick frowned.  “What if we increased power to the transporters?” 

Lee shook his head.  “We don’t have the power to punch through that kind of interference.” He felt a chill of paranoia run through him. Something felt off. “If we got close enough with a shuttle, we could compensate for the radiation fluctuations with real-time monitoring. Increase the dampener field and beam a small team over. Or dock if we really needed to.”

Captain Merrick chewed on his thumb, thinking. Finally, he turned to Lee.  “Verity, get together an Away Team.” Lee nodded. Captain Merrick considered the Federation starship in front of him. “You’re going to have to board the Argent.”


	8. Boarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Away Team goes to the Argent, but it's Lee who discovers the source of the real danger.

“ _What do you see?_ ” The captain’s voice was clear over the comms.

Lee looked over the walls.  “Lots of scoring. Not sure from what, but it was sharp.”

“Life support registers operational.” Ondala was looking over the science station. “Can we take off these suits now?”

“Negative.” replied Lee. “Environmental suits stay on until we locate the crew.” Ondala snarled something in Andorian, probably about how her antenna were compressed. Lee didn’t pay attention. “Logs show they were engaged in a rescue mission. Then… it looks like the captain got stabbed.”

“ _Stabbed? By who?_ ”

“Looks like a Tellarite. The science officer.”

“ _Where did he get the blade from?_ ”

“Uncertain.”

“ _And that_ _’s their last entry?_ ”

“The last official entry. There may be personal logs, but they’re not accessible up here. Not without command codes.”

“ _Check out their quarters. But be careful._ ”

“Well this is fun.” The ensign was one of the new transfers. Someone with whom Lee hadn’t worked before. Tennyson. “Investigating a haunted ship.”

“Stow it, Tennyson.” Lee warned him. “Keep on task.”

Tennyson frowned, but stopped complaining.

“I want you and Clemens right here, scouring the computer. Find out what went wrong. Ondala, Madison. You’re with me.”

Lee and his two crewmates left the bridge and worked their way down the Jeffries tube. On deck 7, he paused, looked around, pulled back in.  “What the hell…”

Ondala tilted her head.  “What?”

Lee pulled his phaser, carefully stepped out. Motioned for the others to follow him.  “That’s a hell of a lot of violence.”

Ondala swore softly. Madison fell into a deep silence.

The deck was a wreck. Panels destroyed, extensive scorch marks and those odd scratches. Ondala went over to one, felt the groove.  ““ _ Atlolla andasu. _ ” She caught Lee’s attention. “These are sword marks.”

“Sword marks?” Lee joined her, double-checking her observation. “You’re right.”

“How…” Madison looked confused.

Lee shook his head.  “I have no idea. That’s not exactly a part of the armory.”

“Even Andorians only carry short blades.” Ondala added.

“And why use them while phasers were available?”

“Those aren’t phaser burns.” Madison noted from the scorch marks.

“Then what are they?”

“Maybe welders set on a very low setting? Or torches?”

“Swords and torches? On a _starship_?” Lee was incredulous.

“ _Tennyson to Lieutenant Verity_.”

“Verity. Go ahead.”

“ _The logs show they were following a distress signal_.”

Lee frowned.  “That sounds familiar.”

“ _There was something weird with the readings. A loss in mass._ ”

“ _This is Captain Merrick. Did you say something about a loss in mass?_ _”_

“ _Affirmative, sir.”_

“ _Navigation?”_

The navigator came on line  _ “I just registered a slight loss in mass on the Argent. Honestly I thought it was a glitch. _ ”

“ _Notify me immediately if we get any other changes_.”

“Lee to shuttle. I need you to move within emergency transport range.”

“ _Affirmative._ ”

“Could it be Klingons?” Ondala asked. “They use blades in hand to hand.”

“ _This is Klah. Show me the blade marks._ ”

Ondala held up her tricorder to the score marks.

“ _Those are not bat_ _’leth. They look like Earth weapons._ ”

Lee looked at them and nodded.  “Straight blades.”

Madison poked his head in one of the quarters.  “Sir?”

Lee went over to Madison and peered in. It was a senior officer ’s quarters and it had been destroyed. The bed had obviously been pried off the deck and used as a barricade. There was some evidence of blood on the walls. Lee went in. Madison searched the quarters as Ondala stood watch. Lee found the logs. Forwarded back to the initial date of the incident. Then past that. Forwarded some more. He looked puzzled. “Ondala.”

Ondala left her post and went to the monitor. She watched Lee as he reversed the logs to a specific point in time.  “Those wounds are lethal.” she noted.

Lee nodded and moved the log forward in time. The officer was obviously still going, healed up, and armed with what appeared to be a Roman short sword. Lee didn ’t pause the recording long and kept going. Ondala glanced at him. She looked confused. Lee pressed his comm. “Tennyson. Check the intermix formula on the warp core.”

“ _Yes sir._ ” A short pause. “ _Whoa. Um. Sir, these readings are way off. The entire antimatter reserve is gone._ ”

“What are you thinking?” Ondala asked.

Lee tapped the screen.  “Look at the stardate.”

Ondala was surprised.  “I don’t understand. How can that be correct?”

“Time dilation.”

“But the main computer…”

“Would have reset the minute it came in contact with a Federation subspace network.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Madison?”

“If the antimatter reserve is gone, what’s powering the ship?”

Lee froze.

He ’d made a big mistake.

“Lee to shuttle, emergency beam out.”

The familiar whine of the transporter was cut short by the sound of the ship going to red alert. An echoing laughter could be heard down the hall, reverberating through the walls of the ship. The three were frozen by the act of transportation, and then just as abruptly, re-solidified. They were still on the Argent. The transport hadn ’t worked.

Ondala, freed from the annular confinement beam, immediately went to the computer.  “Shields are up.”

“ _Shuttle to Away, we got Tennyson and Clemens._ ”

“Come on.” Lee jogged out of the room. He needed to find a engineering console.

Ondala figured it out first and pointed ahead.  “There’s an engineering substation about 8 meters.”

Lee nodded. Bodies were beginning to appear. A ravaged crew. The ship even worse than they imagined. The lights were flickering in sequence, following Lee and the others.  “Code 4-68/67” he shouted into his comm, praying that the  _ Tawny _ would hear him. Captain Merrick would know what to do. A body jerked in front of him, not quite animate, but not dead enough. Lee focused on simply getting around it. No funhouse tricks for him. Code 4-68/67: the Gothos Protocol, used when you could no longer trust reality around you. And when you thought a hostile intelligence was behind it.

The substation. He entered in a command code. Ondala grimaced, gave him a look.  “That’s an academy code.” Her forehead cinched. “You said you didn’t go to the Academy.”

“Not now, Ondala.” He finished typing in commands. The ship shuddered. “Emergency pods away.” He said. “Shuttles are now inactive.”

“There’s something on this ship you want trapped here.” Ondala noted.

“Yep.” Lee agreed. “Don’t know what but it stays on this ship.” He looked around. “One last thing to do.” He took off down another corridor, trusting the others to follow him. The tension he was feeling was making it hard to breathe until he realized it wasn’t coming from inside. It was like waves of emotion crashing down on him. Fear. Violence. Paranoia. No wonder the empath had been a wreck. If she’d caught only a tenth of this…

He made his way up to an emergency pod door, wrestled open the manual controls.

“Didn’t you jettison the pods?” Madison asked.

“Jammed.” Lee responded. “Stay there. I need both of you to help push it out.” They both nodded and staid by the door, ready for action. “Ondala.” Lee said. Ondala nodded. “Tell Thrakeen and your family I love all of you.” He pulled on the manual control. There was no pod on the other side of the door.

The two surprised ensigns went tumbling out into space.

Lee sealed it.

Their environmental suits would keep them safe. That ’s what he was thinking. They’d be away from whatever the thing was in the ship. And the shuttlecraft would pick up their lifesigns and beam them aboard. The same assumption couldn’t be made about him. If this thing was as vicious as he assumed…

It wasn ’t the way Lee was expecting to die but the team  _ always _ came first.

The Argent ’s computer began to babble at him angrily. Finally it settled on three words. “I. Hate. You.”

The explosion as the entity attempted to wreck the substation was significant enough to knock Lee to the ground. This was followed by life support switching to a blistering heat. The suit wasn ’t configured for this. He was in trouble.

Blinding by a melting visor and feeling the heat through his gloves, he stumbled towards an environmental panel. Any environmental panel. He reached it just as things began to shut down, typing in commands mainly by memory.

The coolness hit him like an icy river. He lay on the deck, gasping.

Something was cutting in at the edge of his perception. Someone from the shuttle, pleading, panicking.

The heat. The heat had shut off before he got to the panel. The ship was lifeless.

Lee got to his feet.

He ’d failed.

The entity was no longer on the ship.

It was on the shuttle and headed towards the  _ Tawny _ .


	9. Take the Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone on the Argent, Lee has to make a terrible and heartbreaking decision.

Time was running out.

Lee was piecing together a theory and he didn ’t like it. The thing heading to the  _ Tawny _ was an emotion feeder. An animivore; that ’s what the instructors at the Academy,  _ advanced xeno-biology _ , had called them. Not exactly a word that rolled off your tongue. Non-corporeal. Energy. Lee couldn ’t take the time to figure out which species it was. There were a number of them that had been encountered in the past and all of them were extremely dangerous. Guessing the species would come later.

Time.

The animivore had somehow forced the crew to alter the intermix formula feeding antimatter into the warp core. That caused the U.S.S. Argent to be  ‘dragged’ under the universe, making the flow of the universe’s time relativistically faster than ship time. To put it plainly, the Argent had been forced into a pocket of quick- time for about twelve to twenty years while only days passed in the normal universe.

But that couldn ’t last forever. The unstable intermix had generated waste materials and thrown off the warp field, forcing the ship out of subspace, where the  _ Tawny _ stumbled across it. The waste was Lee ’s only hope to get this ship operational again. Antimatter residue, not something found on the hyper-efficient ships past the mid-22nd century. It was a product of inefficient reactions, useless as fuel because it was non-reactive with normal matter. However, it did produce theta radiation, which was what threw the warp field off. Lee knew there were techniques to use that radiation as a limited power source and even trigger a process which could recycle it back into usable antimatter. However, he needed access to the full computer database to find it. In the meantime, there was another issue he had to handle. A problem with theta radiation and its effects on people.

Hallucinations, nausea, exhaustion.

Those were just the start of symptoms associated with theta radiation and Lee was fairly certain he ’d taken in a big bad dose by now. But it was the only way he figured he could get the warp core on line. A phaser and a tricorder; the only powered items he knew of on this ship, used to try and re-align the antimatter by hand. Just a little. A touch. Enough to start up the power systems where he could use the ship’s systems to recycle the rest. Then he’d have some real power to work with.

“You’re dying.” Ondala was by his side. She caressed him lovingly across one sweat-covered cheek.

“I’m pretty clear on that. Yeah.” Lee responded, trying to wipe his forehead before he realized that he still had his environmental suit on. “You’re not real.”

“I’m as real as you want.” Ondala purred.

“I’m not your _chen_ , Ondala.” Lee insisted, a bit fiercer than he wanted.

Ondala leaned next to Lee —she was wearing that  _ ushaan _ formal instead of Starfleet attire —and she stared into the coupling. She reached down and swirled the residue around with one finger.  “I’m whatever you need me to be.”

“Yeah, well an extra pair of hands would be helpful about now.” Lee tried to stop his hand from shaking. It was the vibrations picked up off holding the phaser near the the residue.

“I can’t help you there.” Thrakeen said, as he tapped his fingers on the railing. Then Thrakeen turned around, putting his back up against the rail. “This is what you want, right? A way to atone.”

“Sometimes it’s just about the job.”

“Yes, pinkskin, but sometimes it’s not.” Thrakeen hissed. “Sometimes it’s the past coming up behind you to take a cut.”

“I like it better when Ondala called me ‘alien superior’.”

“Then you were not covered in _rihresath_.”

“You have a point. Could you leave me alone now?”

Thrakeen moved forward to get in Lee ’s face. “You think I don’t see you. I don’t see the blood on your hands.”

“I know you see me, because you’re just a voice in my head.”

“Then let me give this gift to you, _andasu_.” Ondala said. “You are simply being too timid.”

The young man who appeared next to Lee gave him a start. He was in his early 20s; sharp, crisp, Academy uniform. Insightful eyes. The smallest hint of smile; sad, too often. An acting ensign on the  _ U.S.S. Enterprise _ even before being admitted. Brilliant, but too attached to the truth. For a moment, the two men just stared at each other. Finally, Lee saw that smile.  “You have the power to solve your problem in your hand.”

The hallucination vanished. A brief respite, Lee knew. He felt tired in his bones. The phaser slipped and he almost lost it. He was so tired. If he could only close his eyes for a moment.

No.

He got it. He understood. The phaser by itself wasn ’t enough. Not on a continuous beam or a pulse. It needed an explosion to kick start the reaction off. Discharging the pack all at once; that might work. Lee shook his head, trying to clear it. Not a safe maneuver. Not by a long shot. But he could time it with the sensors on the tricorder. Get safe enough away. Maybe. He started to enter in the equations. It could work. It would work. 

It had to.

He twisted the phaser to an overload setting and then he dropped it in. He almost made the primary warp control console before the shock wave blew him across the room.

Getting back up was difficult.

His head ached, small spider-webbed cracks in his visor. His spine felt like someone had repeatedly punched it with a very large number of fists. The lights showed that the tricorder was just a couple of feet away, still functional. It took a moment for what else was happening to settle in. The lights.

The lights were on. Barely.

Lee pulled himself up. He keyed in an intra-ship link on the console.  “Activate Emergency Medical Hologram.”

A pleasant face materialized out of nowhere.  “Please state the nature of the emergency.”

“I…” Lee began, before he slipped off the console and hit the floor.

The pain wasn ’t quite as bad when he woke up again. The EMH was above him, concerned.

“How long?” Lee croaked.

“Not more than an hour. I’ve administered a mild pain reliever and an isolytic reaction to deal with the initial effects of terminal theta radiation poisoning. However, we will need to proceed to the medical bay to complete your treatment before the damage becomes significant.”

“No time.” Lee pulled himself back up. “I don’t know how long the power will hold.”

He went back to the engineering console, called up the process for purifying the residue. Given the ship ’s resources, it was an easy enough procedure to restore the antimatter residue to usable fuel. From there, the ship’s own systems could begin to process enough antimatter to restore at least partial power.

There was a savage surge of satisfaction as Lee watched everything come on. Life support came up and he stripped the suit off him. The danger he had to face, he ’d want to face head on.

The bridge was coming back to life when he stepped out of the turbolift. A satisfying hum coming from stations that hadn ’t been used in at least a decade. Lee called up the viewscreen on communications and watched as the scene in front of him unfolded. The  _ SS Tawny _ was still there. His ship, his friends. There was still a chance.

Lee took a seat in the command chair.  “Computer, route firing control to command.”

There was a pause as the computer dragged itself out of an electronic equivalence of a coma.  “ _ Affirmative _ . ”

Lee took a look at the console in front of him and drew up a firing solution. He needed to take out warp, to prevent the  _ Tawny _ from falling into the same hellish time-space pocket that the  _ Argent _ had been flung into. He found himself wondering what was happening over on the other ship. To Klah. Andorians. The empath.

Lee closed his eyes. " ‘He won't let us down. He was on the Enterprise. He knows what it's like to trust somebody with his life.’ I get it. I get it now. I’m sorry." He was fighting back tears. “I just want to save them. That's more important than me. My team. I don’t want to do this.”

He opened his eyes again. Ondala wasn ’t there. Thrakeen wasn’t there. Even Klah. “What would you do in my place? Would you do it?” Lee frowned. He knew. “Without hesitation.” He called up weapons control. He felt compelled to say it, not just do the action.

“Fire.”


End file.
